ICELAND - A game of three halves
- Thread starter Timolgra
- Start date
I had to find him a couple of timesI'd say it was more likely he found himself
He is a top bloke though
I had to find him a couple of times
He is a top bloke though
He was riding like a man possessed - twas most impressive
The only thing he lost was a lot of fuel one day, but I'm sure Tim will get round to that bit in his own good time (complete with photos
)Wherever in the world I ride trails be it Mongolia, Wales, US, Africa etc, I love to understand a little of their history and feel how that trail was when ancient travellers battled on journeys infinitely more arduous than ours.
The Sprengisandur was no different, it had eluded me on previous visits either due to weather or circumstance, Mark had ridden it twice before, last year in poor weather and very wet, cold conditions.
I mentioned the ancient parliament earlier at Þingvellir, here in those days at mid summer there would be an assembly of all free Islanders called an Alþingi, so of course they would need to get there which is why many of these old highland routes evolved.
Often marked by piles of stones they must have looked very different to the well used and sometimes graded surface today but it's still a hostile desert only passable for a couple of months each year.
Now the cool bit, if you've not drifted off back to the B&B section
In the old sagas it was known as the sand trail and for some travellers they'd have to cross hundreds of km with nowhere to graze their horses and like now, no shelter for themselves.
The name Sprengisandur came from the black sand and sprengja which means ....... "to ride a horse to death, to be on the point of bursting after running for too long".
They needed to ride as fast as possible, nearly driving the horses to death, to cross the mountain desert and reach the inhabited regions of the island again before supplies ran out.
So, in tribute to those ancient travellers and avoid being caught by the ghosts, it's time to nail the KTM......................
The Sprengisandur was no different, it had eluded me on previous visits either due to weather or circumstance, Mark had ridden it twice before, last year in poor weather and very wet, cold conditions.
I mentioned the ancient parliament earlier at Þingvellir, here in those days at mid summer there would be an assembly of all free Islanders called an Alþingi, so of course they would need to get there which is why many of these old highland routes evolved.
Often marked by piles of stones they must have looked very different to the well used and sometimes graded surface today but it's still a hostile desert only passable for a couple of months each year.
Now the cool bit, if you've not drifted off back to the B&B section
In the old sagas it was known as the sand trail and for some travellers they'd have to cross hundreds of km with nowhere to graze their horses and like now, no shelter for themselves.
The name Sprengisandur came from the black sand and sprengja which means ....... "to ride a horse to death, to be on the point of bursting after running for too long".
They needed to ride as fast as possible, nearly driving the horses to death, to cross the mountain desert and reach the inhabited regions of the island again before supplies ran out.
So, in tribute to those ancient travellers and avoid being caught by the ghosts, it's time to nail the KTM......................
From what I remember I don't think you need an excuse . . . but applaud the sentiments!
ButtonMoon
Registered user
Whilst at Godafoss a stunning and enchanting Icelandic woman, working as a tour guide, was chatting me up ........ well that's what I like to believe anyway ......she reminds me to see the most beautiful waterfall in Iceland, Aldeyjarfoss just off the Sprengisandur.
How could she possibly be wrong?
So straight onto the gravel road heading inland I try concentrating on more realistic issues with the Geordies piss taking still ringing in my ears.
"Past the last farm building, over the river, up the hill and it'll be on you left" how could I forget her directions, her voice, her smell......and as Mark kindly reminded me, the remnants of a love bite on her long neck
......she reminds me to see the most beautiful waterfall in Iceland, Aldeyjarfoss just off the Sprengisandur.How could she possibly be wrong?
So straight onto the gravel road heading inland I try concentrating on more realistic issues with the Geordies piss taking still ringing in my ears.
"Past the last farm building, over the river, up the hill and it'll be on you left" how could I forget her directions, her voice, her smell......and as Mark kindly reminded me, the remnants of a love bite on her long neck
ButtonMoon
Registered user
Same falls three weeks later looking a bit grimmer !
Sent from Space
Sent from Space
Great write up, and photos.
Keep it coming ...
Keep it coming ...
Some cracking pictures there, and it looks like you are having a great time, this is what its all about.
You can see conditions are perfect, it's been warm and dry for a while which means both the Spengisandur was open a couple of weeks earlier than usual and the sometimes notorious river crossings were very low.........unlike for Mark's group the previous year!
The route twists and turns, climbs and falls through sand, gravel and water for miles.
We stop for a break and to regroup.
Eventually we reach the rivers which would normally be a problem but they were so low we crossed them with barely a pause to check them out.
In some ways this was disappointing for me as I'd been looking forward to a real challenge and importantly we were the right group to have overcome it.
Immediately after the rivers we come to roughly the halfway point at Nýidalur with it's huts and the possibility of a camping.
I hand a can of beer to Bob that I'd been carrying especially for this moment and don't think I've ever seen anyone look so grateful!
The route twists and turns, climbs and falls through sand, gravel and water for miles.
We stop for a break and to regroup.
Eventually we reach the rivers which would normally be a problem but they were so low we crossed them with barely a pause to check them out.
In some ways this was disappointing for me as I'd been looking forward to a real challenge and importantly we were the right group to have overcome it.
Immediately after the rivers we come to roughly the halfway point at Nýidalur with it's huts and the possibility of a camping.
I hand a can of beer to Bob that I'd been carrying especially for this moment and don't think I've ever seen anyone look so grateful!
If the guys had felt wrecked when they first arrived then it was nothing compared to now but you can see the warm contentment in their eyes
Having downed his beer, Bob possibly searching for a stash of sweets
We decided to press on and camp much further along as this would enable a change of plan the following day, they could all come with me taking a brilliant route south where I was to meet Ange instead of using the road to Selfoss and on back to Reykjavik.
It had become a standing joke whenever I was asked how far it was, "30 miles" was always my reply, they soon learnt to multiply that a few times
So when John heard my reply after asking 'the question' again, this was his expression
Having downed his beer, Bob possibly searching for a stash of sweets
We decided to press on and camp much further along as this would enable a change of plan the following day, they could all come with me taking a brilliant route south where I was to meet Ange instead of using the road to Selfoss and on back to Reykjavik.
It had become a standing joke whenever I was asked how far it was, "30 miles" was always my reply, they soon learnt to multiply that a few times
So when John heard my reply after asking 'the question' again, this was his expression
It had become a standing joke whenever I was asked how far it was, "30 miles" was always my reply, they soon learnt to multiply that a few times
Ah yes the famous 30 miles to go response. Almost as good as your "it's just 4 more miles to the road!"
Ah yes the famous 30 miles to go response. Almost as good as your "it's just 4 more miles to the road!"
Just a slight understatement to keep spirits up ...... for a while
Tim the images of the guys are superb and tell me so much about your trip ,fanbloodytastic
to you all.
Keep it coming guys.
to you all.Keep it coming guys.
That's not " John " it's Liam Neeson in his latest movie
We press on in a SW direction for miles.
Well done Cabby, hanging in there
Past the first outlying farm building and the road becomes graded as it nears civilisation
And here's the man who made it happen, Mark finally bursting onto tarmac
We reach Hrauneyjar (a fuel pump, hotel with cafe) to refuel and eat stuff in the cafe, they're setting up a TV in time to watch Wales v Portugal so I and a couple of the lads stay a couple more hours.
The others want to reach a camp and get sorted, I'll tell them to follow this road for a little while and when they come to a proper garage on the right, that's the campsite.
As I'm going back inside they ask "How far?"
"Thirty miles" I tell them.
Three hours later when the rest of us join them at the camp, they shout out .......
"Thirty miles? you bastard, it was fifty fuckin six!!!!"
Will they never learn?
Everyone had had a great day but at the end of the following day, all the guys agreed they'd just had the best days riding of their lives, so it's certainly not over yet .................
Well done Cabby, hanging in there
Past the first outlying farm building and the road becomes graded as it nears civilisation
And here's the man who made it happen, Mark finally bursting onto tarmac
We reach Hrauneyjar (a fuel pump, hotel with cafe) to refuel and eat stuff in the cafe, they're setting up a TV in time to watch Wales v Portugal so I and a couple of the lads stay a couple more hours.
The others want to reach a camp and get sorted, I'll tell them to follow this road for a little while and when they come to a proper garage on the right, that's the campsite.
As I'm going back inside they ask "How far?"
"Thirty miles" I tell them.
Three hours later when the rest of us join them at the camp, they shout out .......
"Thirty miles? you bastard, it was fifty fuckin six!!!!"
Will they never learn?
Everyone had had a great day but at the end of the following day, all the guys agreed they'd just had the best days riding of their lives, so it's certainly not over yet .................
Picture of Tim. Second trip waiting for people to catch up.
Sent from Space
Ange has just pointed out she was on the second trip and with my undivided attention, so that picture was taken during the third half
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